The bells of the Ashenwood tolled low and mournful, a sound that raked across Ash's skin like claws.
Today was the funeral of Queen Lyris — beloved Luna of the Silverfang Pack, the woman whose death had fractured the kingdom.
Ash stood at the very edge of the great courtyard, hidden among the servants, the chill wind cutting through her thin black dress. The tray in her hands trembled with the weight of the ceremonial goblets — wine dark as blood, ready for the ritual of mourning.
In the center of the courtyard, the funeral pyre towered high.Lyris's body, wrapped in silken veils and white roses, lay upon it — regal even in death.Her silver hair was braided with moonstone beads, a crown of withered thorns resting upon her brow.
The highest priests of the Moon Temple stood in a circle around her, chanting in the old tongue.
The nobles — Alphas, Betas, and highborn Lunas — gathered in tight clusters, draped in black and crimson. Their faces were pale, strained, their power leaking into the air like mist.
Ash had only seen Queen Lyris once before — from a distance — and even then, she had been struck by the woman's beauty. Not the fragile kind, but the kind that seemed carved from moonlight and steel.
The Queen had been everything Ash was not.
Highborn. Powerful. Respected.
Ash lowered her head, feeling the familiar ache of resentment and longing claw through her.
She was nothing but an Omega — the lowest caste.Fit to serve, to breed, to be ignored.
Omegas were told they were too weak to rule, too soft to lead.
An Alpha and an Omega?Unthinkable.
And yet — when Ash's eyes lifted, they found him across the sea of mourners.
Ronan.
The Alpha King.
His black cloak billowed in the icy wind, his gold eyes shadowed and savage.
Grief clung to him like a second skin — not the loud, weeping grief of humans, but something colder, deeper, like ice frozen into his bones.
Ash's breath caught in her throat.
Something inside her reached for him — raw, desperate, aching.
The wolf beneath her skin stirred, whining in confusion.
She wasn't supposed to feel this.
She wasn't supposed to want this.
And he wasn't supposed to see her else he will fell the same and realize her.
But he did.
Their eyes met — and the earth seemed to tilt on its axis.
For a heartbeat, it was only the two of them.
Ash saw the flicker of recognition in his golden gaze — something primal, something possessive — and fear lanced through her.
Because whatever this was — it was forbidden.
Before she could flee, the air in the courtyard thickened — turned sour, metallic.
A hush fell.
From the shadows near the pyre, Selene stepped forward.
Her violet eyes gleamed with something unholy. Her blood-red gown clung to her like a second skin, and her white hair tumbled wild around her shoulders.
She should have looked broken, grieving for her cousin.
Instead, she looked hungry.
Selene's voice rang out, clear and cold:
"By ancient law, a Luna must stand beside her Alpha.And where one falls... another must rise."
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.
Selene lifted her arms to the heavens, her voice rising:
"I offer myself to the Moon Goddess.I offer my blood, my heart, my life — to save the kingdom."
The priests hesitated.
Ronan said nothing.
Ash could feel the fury and disgust rolling off him in waves — but he didn't move.
Couldn't.
Bound by tradition, by law, by duty.
Selene's gaze slid to Ash, razor-sharp.
She saw the connection between them.She saw the threat.
And she would not allow it.
Ash backed away, heart hammering.
She had to get out.
She had to run — now.
Before Selene's magic found her.
Before Ronan's bond claimed her.
Before everything she had ever known shattered.
The tray clattered to the stones.
Ash fled into the shadows, the howling of wolves rising behind her.